


Red and Blue Lights Flashing In Your Blood

by RainySpringMorning



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Angry Erik, Angst, Blood and Violence, Charles Being Concerned, Erik Has Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Poor Charles, Poor Erik, Protective Erik, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 21:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6723559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainySpringMorning/pseuds/RainySpringMorning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles was left bleeding to death when Erik found him. That was the first time they met.</p><p>IMPORTANT: Archive Warning! See notes.</p><p>(My first AU with these two mutually pining dorks! Yay!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red and Blue Lights Flashing In Your Blood

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT: There is an ARCHIVE WARNING but I didn't want it stuck on here, for the sake of shock value and keeping it spoiler-free. Click on the bottom notes to see what the warning is if you need to. I don't like spoilers in my stories, so I've set it up it this way for you all. Red and Blue Lights originated as a five-times type of story but it gradually evolved into something else. Thank you for reading :)
> 
> Disclaimer: X-Men and all associated characters belong to 20th Century Fox and its original creators.

The first time they meet is one late summer’s night. Erik hears shouting and the sounds of fighting – or, more accurately, someone being beaten up – under the bridge at the park. He arrives at the scene to find a the victim curled on the ground, bleeding from half a dozen wounds and oblivious to the world, and the assailants rushing off, hooting and laughing as they disappear.

He seems so small, head topped with a mop of messy brown hair, lip and cheek and eyebrow split and oozing blood. Erik cradles him in his arms, begging him to hold on, frightened as the fluttering pulse seemed to weaken. He ignores the sticky hot blood staining his jeans, waiting as the siren wails louder and blue-red lights reflect in the black blood pooling around them.

He finds it hard to unwind his hold on the victim. He’s terrified that if he lets him go, he’ll cease to live altogether. The paramedics become gentler, although their hold becomes more urgent, and Erik at last peels his hands free from the bloody skin. He flinches as the victim’s head bobs senselessly on his neck, and watches them pack him into the ambulance to carry away to the hospital. “ICU,” he hears one paramedic say. “Knife wounds.”

“Lost a lot of blood…”

Someone gives Erik a blanket and a once over, cleans the blood off of his hands and gives him something for the shock. He manages to say he’s fine, that he found the victim after the assailants ran off. One police officer tells him the victim will live, that none of the wounds were fatal. Erik bobs his head unsteadily, but he can’t imagine him being alright with all the blood…

Erik lays awake in his bed for most of the night, red and blue lights flashing in the memory of dark blood, until sleep claims him.

∞

The second time they meet is in a coffee shop, a couple of months after the incident under the bridge. Erik thanks the waitress for his coffee and turns… and almost bumps right into him. He’s shorter than Erik, sweet-faced and sporting a slightly neater mess of deep umber waves. His eyes are the deepest azure Erik has ever seen and they hold him still for a second as the memory of him bleeding out in his arms lifts to the surface. There are marks on his cheek, lip and forehead, half-healed scars, with faint purple bruises dappled around them like flowers.

But there’s no recognition; of course there isn’t, yet his heart still crushes slightly at the revelation.

“Err… sorry,” Erik mutters, stepping around him to leave the shop. He hears someone in his company whisper, “Who’s that, Charles?” as he goes, followed by an accented response, “I… I’m not sure.”

Erik smiles slightly as he walks up the sidewalk. _Charles_. He can’t help but think it suits him.

∞

The third time they meet is while waiting for the train to arrive at the station.

Erik doesn’t like the underground subway. It’s noisy and claustrophobic, and his powers go all out of whack when the train comes screeching in with a nasty combination of metal and electricity. He’s waiting there now, leaning against one of the large columns and steeling himself for the impact, when he spots a lone individual in the corner of his eye, standing a bit away. He glances casually and so does the individual, and they both start in surprise.

The train rushes in and Erik forgets to brace.

Reeling away from the noise, he’s blinded by the electrified metal. He can feel it shaking through his limbs, turning his flesh to liquid and rattling his bones. He nearly falls and can’t tell which way he’s facing; he’s terrified he’ll fall over the side and onto the tracks. He’s buffeted by wind and feels a surge of inert panic, and suddenly someone is there, dragging him away and shouting.

 _Calm down!_ A voice begs deep in his head. _Calm your mind!_

Erik forces himself to obey, squeezing his eyes shut and grasping hold of whomever it is holding him. He wills himself to focus, to steady. Through blurry eyes he can see cream and brown, soft ivory skin and familiar, shocking azure. He sucks in his breath, trembling as the train screeches to a halt, and looks up.

∞

“Charles Francis Xavier.”

“Erik Lehnsherr.”

“You’re a metallokinetic, I presume?” Charles asks, eyes shining with interest. Erik isn’t so eager to divulge into such personal matters; a lot of people abhor mutants to the willingness to protest their citizenship, or their right to live. Nevertheless, the fathomless cobalt eyes urge him to respond with a curt nod.

“Groovy,” Charles says with a laugh. “I’m a telepath. I don’t know if you heard me or not underground… I didn’t think you’d be able to hear me otherwise. I’m… uh, sorry if I surprised you. A lot of people don’t like it when I use my powers.”

Erik nods again, this time a little less stiffly. “Same,” he says.

“Why do you take the train if it bothers you so much?” Charles queries, squinting in the sunlight up at Erik. His eyes are as pale as the sky, reflecting the clouds.

“Ease of access.” Charles smirks a little, but something tells Erik that he isn’t amused. Instead, he looks a bit concerned and more than a little confused. He doesn’t press the subject; as far as Erik knows, he could already be rifling around in his head for information, but he doesn’t mention this either.

“So what do you do?” Charles ventures, steering them away to a different topic. “I’m studying Evolutionary Genetics at Columbia. Mutations, and such.”

“You’re trying to understand why we exist?” he asks skeptically.

“That much is obvious. It’s natural evolution, the progression of mankind. No, I’m more interested in what we are, as individual organisms. We have no other purpose than to simply be here and find our own way, and to establish a place among humans without mutant powers.” There is a bright liveliness in his eyes as he speaks and so Erik lets him, noticing how his accent broadens as he digs deeper into their more or less one-sided conversation. They walk side by side, oblivious to where they are going, only knowing they are keeping in the company of one another.

Eventually, Charles’ theories and ramblings dwindle to silence and Erik asks, “Why were those guys beating you up?” Charles’ eyes widen, completely taken by surprise, and he looks up at Erik.

“I was there, that night. I waited with you until the ambulance arrived,” Erik adds quickly, his cheeks flushing a little. “I… I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it or not.”

“That’s why you gave me that look in the coffee shop,” Charles says, visibly putting two and two together. “I was told that someone had found me, but I had no idea…” He comes to a standstill and steps in front of Erik, glowing earnest with gratitude. “Thank you, Erik.”

“I couldn’t leave someone to bleed to death in an alley.”

“No, no you’re too good a man to ever do that…” Charles says. “Oh, you didn’t answer my question.”

“Neither did you,” Erik grins widely, baring his teeth. Charles eyeballs it for a second before smirking and bumping him with his shoulder, falling back into walking side by side. “I have a job at a warehouse. I deliver furniture and appliances to stores. It’s not as revolutionary as Genetics but…” He trails off and shrugs, then jerks his chin at Charles. “Your turn. What happened that night?”

Charles sighs. “They’re in my class. They think that I presume I’m better than them. For a long time, a lot of people suspected I was a mutant and I decided that on that day, I’d give them a bit of a scare. I was hoping they’d back off and let me be after that but… well, you saw what happened.”

Charles doesn’t see past the careful mask shielding Erik’s thoughts, and he is relieved when the telepath’s phone rings suddenly, calling him away to meet up with his sister.

Erik watches him bob away out of sight before letting his guard down. He knows what he has to do, but he knows Charles will hate him for it.

∞

_Erik! Erik, open the bloody door right now!_

Flipping the lock with a twitch of his fingers, Charles flings the door crashing open and storms through the flat to where Erik is clutching the sink, blood dripping from the gash over his eye into the white porcelain. He can hear the anger writhing in the back of Charles’ mind as the telepath struggles out of his overcoat and steps into the tiny bathroom. Erik turns his head, wincing as he squints up at Charles through his one good eye. The anger melts off of Charles face as he sees the extent of the damage.

“Oh, Erik…” he sucks in his breath, reaching out and gently turning Erik’s face to see the swollen black eyelid. One side of his face is mottled purple with bruises and broken skin. His shirt is splattered with crimson droplets, and Charles can see that he’s favouring his left side.

“I’ll live,” Erik says groggily, catching his breath when he laughs, and bends over the sink to spit a mouthful of dark red blood. _Internal bleeding... broken ribs._ “Charles… just don’t.”

“I bloody will if I bloody want to,” Charles snaps, accent thickening, digging for his phone in his coat pocket draped over the couch arm. “You need to see a doctor, immediately.”

**_I killed them, Charles._ **

Charles doesn’t say anything. He just stands there with his phone in his hand, his back to Erik. “I know,” he finally whispers. “I saw it in your mind. Erik…” he turns, eyes gleaming with frightened tears. “Why did you do it? Why did you have to…”

“For your sake,” Erik answers roughly, staggering across the floor to the couch. He eases down onto it, grunting with pain. “Your life matters more…” he gasps sharply. “… than mine.”

“Would you stop thinking that!” Charles cries. “God, Erik. You’re so… stop trying to be a fucking hero! You could have gotten yourself killed! Were you _trying_ to?”

Erik flinches. Charles sees it. They stare at each other, one dark gaze meeting the horrified azure one. Unable to stand any longer, the telepath aims to sit on the chair behind him but hits the floor instead with a resounding thump.

“They tried to _kill_ you, Charles. Why should they deserve to get away with it?”

“Who gave you the right to decide whether or not they lived?” Charles counters meekly. “Your playing of God doesn’t justify your actions tonight.”

“My actions don’t need justification,” Erik slurs feebly, holding Charles’ gaze. “I just needed to see you safe. That I don’t have to be afraid for your life, when I’m no longer here.”

“Erik,” Charles lurches to his feet and leans over Erik, a flutter of panic sending his heart racing. “Erik, what are you saying? You have to stop talking like this…”

“I’m a mutant.” He curls his fingers around Charles as tightly as he can muster. He needs to make him see. “You and I both know what happens to mutants in prison. As much as I’d rather bleed out here and not have to face the consequences, we can’t deny that my actions don’t deserve punishment. They’ll be here soon – my blood will be all over the crime scene. You… I don’t want you to be here when they come.”

“No.”

“Charles.”

“I said no. I’m not leaving,” he protests, ignoring Erik. “If I knew you’d do something like this-”

“What would have you done? What _could_ have you done, to stop me?” Erik yanks on his hand, forcing Charles to look at him again. “I thought you were going to die that night. I refuse to have given them a second chance at trying again.”

“My mother was shot and left in an alley,” Erik adds, much softer. “I found her there, long after the offender disappeared. I heard the shot and… and when I saw you under the bridge, I knew you were someone I could try to save. I failed to save her but you…” he breaks off, tears overflowing, and falls silent. Charles squeezes his hand, baffled by the revelation.

“Erik,” Charles manages once the metallokinetic begins to reign in his unsettling emotions. “You need to go to the hospital. Your injuries-”

He suddenly coughs; a violent, wet sound. Sitting up, he twists onto his side and Charles jerks aside as a slew of splatters the floor. Erik’s wheezing, the sound rasping and bubbly; his face is as white as Charles’.

 _Punctured lung_ , comes the dreaded thought. _Often fatal… shut up! Just make the bloody call!_ Erik is trying to stand on shaking limbs and Charles grabs him, forcing him to stay on the couch. “Move and I’ll kill you myself,” Charles threatens, pulling out his phone again and dialing in a number. Erik shoots daggers at him but remains still under Charles’ worried, watchful eye.

“Y-yes. Charles Xavier. I need… I need an ambulance. My…” he pauses and gives the address, breathing slowly. “Yes, I need an ambulance. My…” he looks at Erik, eyebrows furrowed. “My _partner_ was involved in a fight. Bar fight,” he adds quickly. “He’s coughing up blood, having difficulty breathing…” he pauses for a long time. Erik sighs and leans his head back, closing his eyes. Charles reaches out and glides a hand through his short, choppy hair; he’s assuring himself that Erik is alright.

“Thank you.” Charles ends the call and looks down at Erik. His eyes are dark slits, watching him cautiously. “When they arrive, I’ll put it in their minds that someone accused you of being a mutant and picked a fight.”

“Why?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you lying to the authorities?” Erik snaps. “I said my blood is there at the crime scene. You might be able to throw them off now, but what about when they have clear, solid evidence? Eventually, someone will realize they have a telepath covering for a murderer. Charles, you’re putting yourself in danger.”

“We’ll leave the country, live a quiet lifestyle somewhere.”

“You’re playing with fire, Charles!” He breaks off with a fit of phlegmy sounding coughs.

“I’m ensuring your life, my friend,” he corrects stiffly. Erik says something he doesn’t hear and Charles has to ask him to repeat it. For some reason, Erik is _smiling_.

“Partner?” he repeats with an ironic raise of his brow. Charles flushes deep red and turns away.

“I needed to say _something_.”

“Friend would have done well enough.”

“I’ll remember that next time. Wait…” Charles' face is full of dawning fright as he realizes what Erik has said. “Are you… are you saying you don’t… or I mean, you aren’t…?”

“Willing to be your partner?” Erik finishes for him. “No-”

The paramedics arrive then, take one look at Erik and the blood on the floor, and begin the procedure of preparing him for the ride to the hospital. Charles is asked to leave, which he is reluctant to do at first, but he can’t even meet Erik’s eye. The metallokinetic is trying to get his attention and answer the paramedics at the same time, but Charles is disheartened and is letting himself be guided to the door. _No_. It echoes through his head. _No_.

“Charles,” Erik calls behind him but his voice catches on a pained wince and the paramedics bring up the stretcher, passing Charles without so much as a glance. He shrugs it off anyways – what more does Erik have to say? He said no; no need to reinforce it with unnecessary words. He blindly follows the stairs out to the street and follows it, watching the sidewalk flash blue and red and blue again. Something isn’t quite right; a part of him that was full is suddenly, achingly hollow. These symptoms, he knows what they belong to but can’t accept it right now. It’s all too fresh, too real. He turns a corner, not fully sure of which way he is headed.

Charles makes it to the park.

And three of them are waiting to issue their revenge.

This time, Charles hears the sirens and sees the red and blue lights flashing in blood that appears black in the night. He closes his eyes.

∞

Erik is groggy from the anesthetic. His side aches and his face feels puffy and sore, but everything is distant and numbed. He can feel a breathing tube over his mouth and nose. The heart monitor beeps softly. He’s out of surgery, he realizes.

There’s someone in the next bed over to him. Erik turns his head, casually curious, and his eyes follow the too-pale arm up to the shoulder, and it’s there his eyes freeze. His heart monitor beeps, picking up the jolt of his heart.

His nose has been broken, spreading a shadow under his eyes and leaving the bulb dark purple under the surgical tape. His heartbeat is slow, slower than Erik’s. His eyes sweep over him but he’s shielded by the heavy blanket. Something is wrong. Something…

Charles suddenly stiffens and the heart monitor stops beeping. A piercing whine fills the room. Erik is paralyzed with horror. The nurses rush to Charles, blocking him from view. He strains to see past them, heart jumping with panic. Tears prick his eyes. _Goddammit, Charles!_

The heart defibrillator arrives. They secure the pads to his chest, press down the paddles, shout clear.

First pulse. Warm blood glistens blue and red on his hands.

Second pulse. Brilliant azure eyes widen in a coffee shop.

Erik flinches every time Charles jerks on the bed. The ghost of a scream echoes in his head. The heart monitor continues to whine. He can feel the jolts of electricity in the cavity of the telepath’s chest.

Third pulse. **_I couldn’t leave someone to bleed to death in an alley._** _No, no you’re too good a man to ever do that…_

Fourth pulse. _Your playing of God doesn’t justify your actions tonight._

The tears run freely now. He’s helpless to do more than watch Charles' heart fail him. The nurses step back and pass each other solemn glances. One shakes their head. They switch off the heart monitor. It’s eerie silent.

Erik waits for the pulse. He feels for it with his powers, seeks out the electrical charge of his mind, the iron in his blood. There’s nothing, only silence. The minutes tick by, and a nurse returns to pull the edge of the blanket up over Charles’ head, then wheel him away. Erik closes his eyes.

The silence stretches between the clock's ticking mechanical heartbeats on the wall.

∞

The plane touches down on the runway. Erik relaxes his grip on the armrest and looks away from the knowing smile on the woman’s face next to him. Throughout the entire flight, she’s done nothing but offer small, shy smiles or fiddle with her hair or clothing. Erik notices, but he doesn’t care. For her sake, it’s better she find a different man to take to the bar.

When the passengers are welcomed to gather their belongings and exit the plane, Erik patiently waits while the woman brings down a pair of stuffed bags and sends him one last, tiny grin. He looks away, jaw set, and he glimpses her smile falter from the corner of his eye. She haughtily flips her hair over her shoulder and marches down the aisle, shoulders set firm. Erik sighs and climbs to his feet, slightly off balance, and brings down his single suitcase from the overhead compartment.

One of the flight attendants broadly smiles at him as he passes. “Welcome to Germany. First time?”

“ _Nein_ ,” he says, adopting his native accent. “I’m returning home. Just some, uh… family business to take care of.”

“Ah, well, I hope everything works out well,” she says, nodding farewell and slipping past him. Her nametag reads “Michelle.”

As the cold wind of Germany’s winter climate brushes his face and he looks out across the tarmac at where a plane is lifting into the sky, he can’t help an ironic, but humourless, chuckle. He has a name and a location.

He hails one of the cabbies parked out front, having just delivered a small family to the airport, and slides into the backseat.

“Where will it be?” the driver asks in German.

“This address,” Erik holds out a paper with the handwritten address. The driver looks at it with steeped eyebrows, then eyes him suspiciously. He’s middle-aged, face deeply lined with dark eyes that have clearly seen more than he ever bargained for as a simple cabbie.

“If it is there, then you are looking for someone,” he says with a note of forewarning.

“ _Ja._ I am.” Erik grins broadly, leaning back in the seat and swinging the cabbie door shut with a wave of his hand. “Klaus Schmidt.”

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> **Archive Warning: Major Character Death**


End file.
